


The Serpents and the Sightless

by XxTwistedEverAfterxX



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2759483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTwistedEverAfterxX/pseuds/XxTwistedEverAfterxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew had spent far too long in isolation, and in artificial blindness. When one glance from his eyes could turn someone to stone, it was difficult to make friends and build loving relationships, until Alfred came along. Blind and sweet, Matthew only had eyes for him, and Alfred appreciated how his own eyes were so loved, yet to him, it didn't quite feel like enough...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Serpents and the Sightless

**Author's Note:**

> I had a very sweet post appear on my dash, and I thought “oh gosh, how cute!” immediately! So I simply had to make an AmeCan fic out of it!! So have some sweet Medusa!Matthew and Blind!Alfred as the perfect little cute couple~ They would be a perfect match—as always, eh! If you're curious as to which post inspired this, the link is on this story's post on my Tumblr. I hope you enjoy the fic! Smooch smooch!!

_Angel.  
  
_ Noun: one of a class of spiritual beings; a celestial attendant of God.  
  
By order of definition, Alfred was nothing of the sort, unfitted and unclassified. Matthew had met angels, and he stood to oppose the definition, would prefer it re-written as; noun: one of a class of snobby, higher-than-thou assholes with a superiority complex, often with prejudiced and disgraceful views and a sadistic delight in tormenting beings deemed lesser than them.  
  
Alfred was no angel.  
  
Alfred didn’t have wings or a halo, or walk about in clothing that looked like stolen sheets that had been tangled around limbs when caught walking through a bunch of drying laundry on linen day.  
  
Alfred didn’t look down on people, nor did he stare in disgust, or judge off of sight.  
  
Because Alfred couldn’t see— _blind_ —but Matthew knew with a definitive certainty that Alfred would never be like an angel.  
  
Alfred was something far greater.  
  
Though Matthew was forbidden to look a single person in the eyes, and forbidden to see faces, shut in inside of the darkest rooms where no direct eye contact could be made even accidentally, he was permitted to look into Alfred’s eyes—the first human set of eyes in a long time that didn’t become petrified stone. They were a bright sky blue, a never ending sea of beauty with stars, and Matthew couldn’t drink in enough how ethereal it was to look directly at someone’s face, to see lips connected with a voice, and a smile connected to a laugh. Though his pupils were milky, they reminded Matthew of the clouds in the clear skies rather than something grotesque.  
  
They would laugh playfully and he would see how the lines by a mouth formed as it stretched into a smile, and how straight white teeth gleamed, and how the face shifted shapes with each belly deep sound. Alfred would whine between sniggers, insisting that he had to keep his dark tinted sunglasses on, that it made people less uneasy if his clouded pupils were hidden, but Matthew would slide them off and kiss him soft and sweet, trailing his lips over sun kissed cheek bones and to eyelids that fluttered closed and took the butterfly soft tenderness with a laugh as Matthew breathed “I love your beautiful eyes”.  
  
Guilt was all Alfred would feel amidst the deep adoration. All Matthew gave him was compliments for his eyes, and reassurances opposing old insecurities that they weren’t pleasant to look at, much less anything worth staring at in adoration, as Matthew seemed to do happily.  
  
The hisses of snakes followed them wherever they went, prevalent whenever they kissed, curling along the sides of Alfred’s face, slippery smooth and nestling into his hair. Matthew’s head was full of them, pale blond hair that would thicken and from snakes that were caramel gold at the heads, their forked tongues a bright violet like Matthew’s eyes, but Alfred couldn’t see. He only saw what he felt, using his hands as eyes to touch, to give shape to Matthew’s face, hair, snakes, body, and smile.  
  
Yet Matthew loved him to his core, even if he himself couldn’t be seen, because that was why they could be together. Alfred wouldn’t turn to stone with an accidental glance, and Matthew, at last, had companionship, love, and happiness. Though for Alfred, it wasn’t enough, wanting to compliment Matthew somehow, to prove to him that he was loved and gorgeous, though he had no back up on visuals, even though he  _knew_. He knew, and he wanted Matthew to know desperately how handsome Alfred  _knew_  he was.  
  
It was late at night; a time when it was safe to be together outdoors and also give Matthew fresh air, and a chance to see the skies without fearing an innocent passerby would suffer at the hands of his cursed gift and turn to stone on accident. The trees rustled, and Alfred could hear each crackle of the branches, and the few leaves that remained, beneath the thick blankets of snow being rustled by the wind. He could hear the crunch of snow and ice that peppered the pathway beneath their feet, and the scrape of their shoes taking one careful step at a time in the contented silence. Matthew’s snakes all hissed softly beneath his woollen beanie, the fabric thick to protect the cold blooded curled bodies, all objecting to the outside temperature.  
  
Matthew himself was wrapped in thick clothes, hoping to raise his body temperature enough for the little creatures stuffed beneath the beanie to become more comfortable when his blood circulated to his head.  
  
“You’re tense—are you cold?” Matthew spoke up, violet eyes turning to look to the American beside him, smiling at Alfred’s insistent head shake, “You’ve just been quiet for a while is all, and you’re squeezing my hand. Is something troubling you?”  
  
Chewing on his bottom lip, Alfred hesitated before turning his head away ever so slightly, giving the tiniest of nods and sounds of agreement. Raising an eyebrow, Matthew’s smile softened, a concerned look passing over his face as he gave Alfred’s hand a small squeeze.  
  
“Is it the same thing as always?”  
  
Another soft sound of confirmation, and Matthew chuckled.  
  
“I don’t mind. I’m happy, because I get to see you, and that’s what I want. I want to not restrict myself to be near people without fear, and you’re perfect for me, so don’t worry. Your eyes are beautiful,” Matthew reassured gently, slowing down their walk faintly, smiling.  
  
He could see Alfred was clearly fretting, curious as to what was going on in his mind, aware of the frantic thoughts that were probably whirring about, but unsure as to  _what_  they were. Alfred had frequently expressed how apologetic he was that whenever he was complimented on his appearance, he couldn’t return it without some kind of awkwardly phrased praise, without saying that Matthew’s bone structure felt the beautiful, or without saying that out of all the people he’d gotten a look at with his hands that Matthew was the most attractive.  
  
Pausing beneath a lamplight, snowflakes caught the golden beam, melting in the heat, and the snakes beneath Matthew’s beanie coiled tighter together to retain that warmth and steal any seeping in through the wool from the light. Cupping Alfred’s cheek with his gloved hand, Matthew leant in, placing a light and chaste kiss to the cold tip of his nose, smiling.  
  
“I’m happy that I don’t have to worry about unintentionally killing you, and that I can still look at your face and be affectionate without needing to make you close your eyes and blindfold you several times for safety. I’m happy that I can finally look into someone’s eyes and see their colour rather than grey stone. Your eyes have the prettiest colour I’ve ever seen in my life.”  
  
Alfred’s cheeks heated up, eyebrows knitting as he drew in a deep breath through his nose, grasping for compliments, for  _anything_  to say as he lifted his hand which wasn’t holding Matthew’s, radiating heat as they always did, gloved, and sought out Matthew’s chest. From there, he guided them up along the thick scarves around his neck, up to cool cheeks, and then to the beanie, gingerly cupping the thick mass beneath the wool, feeling the slither and slide as the serpents immediately migrated towards Alfred’s hands, curling around his fingers like scaly rings.  
  
“I—”  
  
Matthew looked to his boyfriend, holding Alfred’s other hand with both of his, the snakes hissing happily as his heart fluttered at the tender touches to the sensitive creatures.  
  
“I  _really_  like snakes!” Alfred blurted out, catching Matthew off guard, surprising him.  
  
Cheeks glowing bright red, Alfred’s lips twisted, uncertain if his comment had been a compliment or something borderline offensive, feeling the serpents slithering beneath his gloves, a few sliding away entirely. Had he upset his lover? He couldn’t see his expression, and didn’t have his hand on the Canadian’s face to feel his reaction, but the silence felt heavy between them and that worried him deeply.  
  
It was only when Matthew leant in closer, and he felt the soft and warm slither along his face before a tiny kiss and a flicker of a forked tongue made him blush more, eyes widening in surprise that one of the snakes had come out from the hot protection just to show him affection. Matthew’s lips followed soon after, the kiss chaste and sweet on his lips that he felt the smile rather than saw it.  
  
“I really like you and your eyes,” Matthew whispered back, snakes uncoiling and sliding from beneath the beanie to offer their own forked tongue kisses, radiating a gentle heat as the caramel hue heads tinted to a deeper soft red, Alfred’s smile stretching wide, relief melting the stress from his face, “Thank you for liking me and my snakes too.” 


End file.
